Crash Into Me Dave Matthews Band

This was the last day I was a poor girl.  This car crash changed my life forever.. The stakes were high.. I needed $1600 in the next three days to be able to move into a beautiful and beloved shared house with an enchanting opera singer. I had no real job, but I did have a "Nude Model Muse" Ad out on craigslist. I charged $100 to $200 an hour depending on how much I had to show. Of course, many men imagine up all sorts of things they would like to see me do, camera or not. On this particular day, I had three photoshoots lined up, well two photoshoots and one.. foot smelling session. And that paid more than the other two combined! However, I needed all those jobs that day to make my move happen. I was in a bad living situation with a pervert molester, and I was going to do what I had to to get out. But in style, as in the most expensive room for rent on craigslist, which i still think was very worth it. Anyhow, I'm on my way to the footsmelling gig which is East Bay. He has requested that my feet be "intoxicatingly stinky" and in fact if they smell enough he will give me $500 instead of $400. The session is to last 15 stench ridden minutes in his SUV at the CVS parking lot. There's one problem... my feet don't stink! I wrote two pairs of sweat socks and ran and kicked and jumped, and still, Roses.  I coyly pick through my boyfriend's dirty laundry intending to wear his dirty socks, but he doesn't work very hard so his feet don't stink either! So off to the friendly fancy market with a large selection of cheeses.. I have no time for fooling around, I ask the cheese man for the stinkiest, ripest most footlike cheese there is. He gives me some soft moldy french cheese and I ran out without paying for it (I'm sorry I did that, and I paid for it in many ways later, but at the time had already put all my change into the gas tank to get to this gig.) In the car I take off my socks and roll my eyes as I divy up the foot cheese into each sock and squish it around and then slide my poor weirded out feet into the slime socks. I put the feet heaters on full blast, and away I go! Im running about 5 minutes late.. I'm not that worried because I'm basically a nascar driver. At 16, I moved in with my boyfriend at his parents place, and he and his father, who was a nascar driver, taught me to drive.. So I'm cruising between my usual 75/90ish down the 101 when I see red tail lights, thick with warning ahead. I come all the way to a stop. If this doesn't clear up, I'll lose all the time I just made up for, and then some! Im meeting Mr. Tootsie on his lunch break and he made it very clear that we had a 15 minute window for meeting and I must not be late. I see that tge forbidden carpool lane is moving at a steady 10-20mph and im currently stopped... I make my way over, because I MUST! I cannot lose this job, or I won't be able to move in three days and I just can't stay where I am. My GPS says I'm 23 minutes away, but I have 15 minutes to get to our feet meet. I decide to go with my usual optimism and text him that im running 3 minutes late, and I'll see him shortly! Then I see that my next client down in the south bay has texted me trying to squirm his wormy self out of our photoshoot for this afternoon. It's $200 and im not letting him off the hook. I already have his address and I am texting him that I will see him in 1.5 hours as agreed and that I'm already on my way. Now, here is why I made the choice to respond st this moment, despite knowing texting while driving offs illegal for a very good reason. This idiot "photographer" set up this appointment for an implied nude glamour shoot at a rented studio for 2 hours about a week ago. A few days later he contacts me to see if I was offering a "secret special menu". Like what are you looking for? I ask. "Well, I would pay you $500 to watch me jack off while you pose naked". I tell him im not comfortable with that. Then he says, "OK, $1000 but you have to touch it." Why is this so common!? "You know what, I'm flattered, but let's just stick with the 1 hour photoshoot, because I'm just not wanting to do anything sexual". I can tell he's disappointed, he just says, "Well let me know if you change your mind. Im sure you'll be thinking about it". I'm thinking about bringing a knife, honestly. It wouldn't be the first time a photographer had tried to rape me on a shoot. Yesterday morning he had called me to ask me to meet him in person first, "for his safety", he said. He wanted me to drive 2 hours and meet in his car in a parking lot. I said, "I totally understand that it's hard to trust people online these days, but I am who I say I am, and I can't drive out there for free." Then he says, "Well I could pay you, but I would have to recieve something for my payment". Like what? I ask. He's quiet for a few seconds. "I want to see your naked body so I know you look like your photos since I am paying so much to rent the studio". I'm deeply annoyed realizing this is yet another desperate fucker pretending to be a photographer to lure attractive women into his clutches where we can take advantage of them. Im almost going to send his info to the hell's angels, who do actually deal with such creeps, by the way, if you ask. Just saying.. the world is kind of overpopulated.. Anyways! I really need the money so I'm going to force him to stick to the original plan. "I am beautiful, professional, likeable, fun to work with and I have many references from other photographers. I will not meet you at 11pm in your car and get naked for you there so you can see if I'm really "hot or not". I will meet you tomorrow at the studio at the agreed upon time, and if you're not there, I will call the police and give them your information and let them know you're trying to solicit prostitution. Good night, I'll see you tomorrow". I hung up and I was shaking I was so mad. This happened so often. Many of my stories are about "photographers" who are really trying to pay for sex. SO im in stop and go traffic filtering a brand new version of my car which I am admiring between angry texting this jerk who sent a message saying, "I'm sorry, I can't meet you because I'm afraid you will not meet my needs". Just as im telling him I have his contact info, and I used my insurance agent database to find his home address (I used to be a life insurance agent and they never deleted my account..), SMACK! I hit the car in front of me.. I can see a couple looking back at me. The driver is a man, a big one, and he just stays parked in the carpool lane and waddles back to my car. He looks mad, until I pop out of my car in my "outfit of the day" which is a tie up top that exposes my black lace push up bra, my bare midsection and a shirt high waisted black and silver skirt with black fishnet thigh highs and to complete the ensemble.. mens giant sweatsocks filled with stinking soft french cheese... "Are you ok?" His look and demeanor immediately soften. "Well im fine, but what about YOU!?" I ask with all the little miss muffet big fake lash eyed dolly looking innocence I could muster.. "I'm fine honey.. and my wife is ok too, I'm glad nobody got hurt.." and just then his wife spies me and jumps right out of the car into traffic and hustles over, "I THINK SHE BROKE MY NECK!" She is holding her neck dramatically.. "CALL THE POLICE!" I have to go! "I'm so, so sorry, here is my insurance information, I unfortunately have to go right now, it looks like your car is barely dented and we can't sit on the freeway anyh- "NO! STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE MISSY, IM CALLING THE POLICE!". Just then a AAA tle truck driver pulls up to us and yells, "GET OUT OF THE ROAD! There's an exit right there, I'll meet you at the hotel parking lot." We all get back in our cars and drive to the hotel off the freeway. The police arrive quickly and take statements. I say I was admiring their new car, and when they braked for the stop part of the stop and go traffic, for some weird reason, my brakes didn't work quickly enough! It was barely a tap I say.. The front of my car would say otherwise, however, truly, their car was practically undamaged. Their new steel far outmatched my ancient little tin box car. I start to cry and tell the police man I really have to go immediately to make my rent (it's been about 14 minutes, and the meeting is in 1 minute.. he lets me go, and the wife is yelling "UN-UH!" and pointing at me. I drive away and speed top the CVS on side roads. Im about 30 minutes late when I arrive and I call the guy and he says, "I'm sorry I had to leave, please don't contact me". Now I have disgusting cheese feet that ruined my thigh high fishnets and I need new stockings for the next shoot and wet wipes to clean my feet, which I haff intended on buying at CVS with the foot monger money. But as it is, I have no money at all, in fact at that point I had two bank accounts, both overdrawn, less than a quarter tank of gas, and had already spent down to my dimes on gas. I was not the kind to ask for help, no matter what. I had just enough time and gas to get to the next shoot, and there was one more after that, several hours later in that same town. So, I switched off the luxury of morality and walked into CVS, grabbed a pair of thigh highs (they have a surprisingly great selection), a pouch of wet wipes and a protein bar and walked right back out. I would say no one noticed me, but it was more like im just incredibly good with slight of hand and carried a large purse. I was definitely noticed liking like I did. A stripper looking outfit with baggy long sweatsocks stuffed into peep toe high heels... no one dared approach. I got back in my car, cleaned up and I was on my way to the next appointment when my car started making weird noises and randomly losing power. I pulled over and opened my hood and quickly remembered I have no clue what anything under the hood does.. The jerk from the next appointment had sent a message saying he had never really booked the photography studio, and he wouldn't be there and best of luck to me. He wishes I could have been able to "offer more". Then a text from my third appointment pops up saying, "Sorry, must reschedule, thanks". I immediately call him and when he answers I just started crying. I was overwhelmed and feeling hopeless. He sent me $5 through PayPal and wished me well, but he said he had a family emergency and would reschedule for next week. I got back in my car and decided to just go home and see if I could drum up a local shoot. I'm driving over the Richmond bridge (which is very long) and the car starts shuddering and the gas pedal is useless.. I'm going slower and slower and everyone is honking at me. Then smoke starts pouring out from under the hood.. I put it in neutral and coast very slowly all the way over the bridge and even all the way down the first exit after the bridge, to a red traffic light where I finally have to break. Ther light turns green, everyone is honking, and so I got out of my car to wave people around me. A work truck full of Mexican men pull up and though none of them seemed to speak English, Chivalrous men that they were, they could spot a damsel in distress. They hopped out and all together the five men pushed my car down the street to a gas station! I thanked and hugged them all and a couple of them tried to kiss me, but I was grateful still! They drive off and the gas station owner ran out red faced, "NO! MOVE THAT CAR! YOU CAN'T JUST PARK HERE, THIS IS AN AUTO SHOP!" Yes, in fact this gas station was also a smog/auto shop and it seems my car was right in front of their garage. "I'm so sorry, my car broke down on the bridge and these men held me push it here.." He was furious! "I DON'T CARE! GET IT OUTTA HERE!" He went back into his shop hands up. I followed him in, "Well, if this is a shop could you look at it and tell me if it's an easy fix?" He looked me up and down in a very strangely obvious way. He grumbled, said nothing, and walked out to my car, pulled the hood and looked at it for about one minute and said, the engine is blown. We can't help you. Get it towed right now." I spent my $5 on coconut water and chips at his store and then sat in my car, and sobbed some and thought of all the possible solutions and then called my parents. This was especially regrettable because they had just bought me this car for 6k several months ago after I had lost my car due to a 16 year old boy hitting me head on while we were both going 50mph. My insurance totally screwed me and well that's another story.. My disgruntled parents gave me their AAA info for a tow. What I failed to mention was that I had used this car as collateral on a loan I took out to be able to pay rent and horse board a few months ago, and I still owed almost 2k on the loan. I hadn't made my loan payment last month, offer this month, and now that I had no transportation, next month didn't look so good either. I knew they were going to repo the car soon anyways, so I decided to have the car towed to the Target parking lot down the road. I called the loan sharks and said, "I've decided you can have my beloved car to settle the loan, it's located at this location and this conducts our business, thank you." Then I called my best friend and a few hors later her and her boyfriend picked me up and filmed me dancing on the hood of my car. I packed up all my things and said goodbye. I had really loved that little stick shift Toyota Camry. It had fake burl wood interior.. it was lovely. My best friends boyfriend was a collector of everything, including cars and he leant me one of his shift stick trucks the other girls couldn't drive. I went home, rather dejected and went through my emails. Twice a week for the past month this woman had been responding to my nude modeling ad that I should stop wasting time driving around and be a naked masseuse at her house instead, where I could make cash all day in one place. It paid $120/hr. I had ignored her many responses believing I was above all that jazz. But that night, I sent her a very sweet message that I was in fact an expert masseuse and also a talk therapist, and perfect for the job. And that was the last day I ever had to steal, because I started making (and spending) about 15k a month as a nude masseuse. And oh, the stories I could tell.. will tell..